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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009143">Water of the Womb</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiranInBlue/pseuds/KiranInBlue'>KiranInBlue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seek the Stars (Vetra/Ryder Shorts) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dreams, F/F, sucky parents</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:40:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiranInBlue/pseuds/KiranInBlue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vetra dreams of her mom, and it brings up some feelings she wishes she'd already left behind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vetra Nyx/Female Ryder | Sara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seek the Stars (Vetra/Ryder Shorts) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Water of the Womb</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grime, rust, dim light. It isn’t home because ‘home’ implies something safe and warm and joyful and stable and the broken-down warehouse where Vetra and Sid spent so much time squatting is none of that. Oddly, the place is larger than Vetra remembers -- not in that good, hopeful way of having the luxury of free space, but in the agoraphobic way of too many blind spots and vulnerabilities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uneasy </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Off-balance</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone’s here who shouldn’t be. Vetra doesn’t know how she knows that, but she accepts the knowledge as truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where’s</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sid </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra moves through the warehouse, searching. There’s a door at the end of the warehouse, tall and shining and newer than the rest of the building, and she opens it. There’s a staircase. It goes down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she descends the walls become cleaner, and the light becomes stronger. The concrete of the stairs below her shift into brushed metal, spartan but well-maintained. And then she’s in a long hallway, which despite her long descent from the warehouse, is lined with thin windows through which she can see the star-strewn sky. There are doors here too, each one plain and unmarked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
</p><p>
  <span>familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>she hates it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Family barracks on Palaven. Where she grew up, until her mother decided to leave. Vetra reaches out a hand toward the door -- although all the doors are identical, she knows exactly which one she is looking for -- and it’s a child’s hand that presses against the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where’s </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sid </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open, and inside there’s a dark, sparsely furnished room. There’s a figure standing at the other end, and even without being able to see their face, Vetra knows who it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom,” she says. “Mom, where’s Sid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure turns and Vetra’s mother appraises her with a clinical, unimpressed expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vetra.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Sid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coldly: “You didn’t earn her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfair</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrong </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hundred no’s bubble up inside Vetra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did. I’ve been taking care of her for years.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra’s mother turns away and starts walking. Vetra hurries after her. The room opens up, walls falling away until they’re outside: jungle fronds, incessantly falling rain, broken earth, a gas giant overhead. Maybe Havarl. Maybe Sur’Kesh. Maybe the broken Turian world-to-be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Sid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to learn discipline. You are immature, and you are irresponsible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not,” Vetra protests. “I have been taking care of both me and Sid alone this whole time. You and dad just </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I’ve been doing it all. I kept us safe and found us shelter and food, everything she needed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> raised her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother keeps walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother scoffs. “You’re weak. Too emotional.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not. Don’t you see what I’ve done for Sid? You could never be as good at what I do as I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her mother finally looks at her, but it’s not kind. “You’re still running away. Couldn’t make it in the entire galaxy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra bristles. “I did what I had to do. That’s more than anyone can say for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother surveys her, mandibles flaring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve handled everything,” Vetra insists, almost demanding her mother believe her. “I can take care of Sid. I always have, and I did it </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her mother says: “Disappointing,” and disappears into the dark fronds behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom!” Vetra calls, and rushes after her, but her mother isn’t there. There’s only jungle all around her, pressing in, and Vetra realizes there are dangers everywhere and she still doesn’t know </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>where’s </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sid</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom!” she yells again, crashing through the underbrush. She’s not being careful, she knows, but she can’t be careful right now. She has to convince her mother of how capable she is, how strong she’s been, because otherwise she will never see Sid again. Her mom will take Sid from her, because Vetra hasn’t been good enough and strong enough and responsible enough and </span>
</p><p>
  <span>the jungle is getting thicker and darker and </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra’s completely lost </span>
</p><p>
  <span>gas giant looms over the canopy, angry violet </span>
</p><p>
  <span>shadows everywhere and </span>
</p><p>
  <span>terror, suffocating -</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where’s</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sid</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra jolts awake with a gasp. Beside her, Sara rouses at the sudden sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vetra?” Sara murmurs blearily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra inhales a few deep breaths, her brain racing to make sense of her surroundings. Sara. Tangled sheets. A wide expanse of stars overhead. The hum of the Tempest all around them. Where’s Sid? On the Nexus. Vetra talked to her yesterday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She exhales. “Sorry, babe,” she whispers. “Just a dream.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara squints up at her through sleep lidded eyes. “You wanna talk about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra gives her a dismissive shake of her head. “Nah, it’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, fine, only if you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra’s mandibles twitch fondly as Sara’s arms twine around her waist, pulling her closer. “Deal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as Vetra relaxes back into Sara’s embrace, she finds that she’s wide awake. Her heart’s still beating a rapid staccato behind her chest, and her limbs are wired, ready to race after her mother’s shadowy retreating figure. Vetra stares sleeplessly at the stars overhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dream’s not fading as quickly as most dreams do. In her mind’s eye, Vetra can still vividly see the haughty, unimpressed expression on her mother’s face, still feel that furious, frustrated helplessness as she walks away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did she even dream about her mother? Her mother hasn’t part of her life in a very long time. Her mother made her choice, fourteen years ago, and Vetra’s not one to look back. Or . . . it was 614 years ago, Vetra corrects herself. And doesn’t that make it all the more ridiculous? Her mother’s dead. Both her parents are dead. Even if Vetra ever made it back to the Milky Way, there’s no chance of ever running into them ever again. They’re gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an unexpected twist in her chest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not sleeping,” Sara mumbles against the plates of Vetra’s side. “You’re as rigid as a board.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Just thinking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara lifts her head and peers up at Vetra through the dim light of the bedroom. “What are you thinking about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra wants to tell her nothing, that she’ll go to sleep now, but there’s something so earnest in Sara’s expression that she finds herself giving in. “I realized that my parents are dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Sara pushes herself up so she’s resting on her elbows. “Right. Uh, how do you feel about that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strange. I think . . . angry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angry at your parents?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Stupid, I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not stupid,” Sara says firmly. “I know as well as anyone that dead parents make lots of unexpected emotions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>grieving</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Vetra retorts, and then immediately feels guilty for the testiness in her tone. “Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not. So . . . why are you angry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra’s quiet for a moment as she parses through her thoughts. “I think . . . oh, this is dumb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re criticizing,” Sara chides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra’s mandibles twitch with amusement. “How rude of me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Super rude. Now, what is this very-not-dumb thought?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess . . . I’m mad that they died before I got to prove them wrong. I think I had always thought I would see them again one day -- not because I missed them or wanted them back or anything sappy like that. But they walked out on Sid and I. We weren’t good enough for them. And I guess I always hoped one day I would run into them again, and they’d see we never fucking needed them anyway. That we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>good for them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That makes sense,” Sara says, leaning back. “Living well is the best revenge and all that, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a human phrase? Hmm. I think I like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes us humans are wise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra smiles slightly at Sara, then casts her gaze to the sky again. “Anyway. Guess that’s in the past, though, by more than a couple hundred years.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so,” Sara says. “Doesn’t mean you can’t still think about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“. . .  I dreamed about my mom,” Vetra admits quietly. “I dreamed I couldn’t find Sid, but my mom was there. When I asked her where Sid was, she said I was a disappointment. I tried to argue. She didn’t care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra’s still staring at the stars, but out of the corner of her gaze, she watches as Sara’s brow tightens, her lips pursing with unease. “I’m sorry,” Sara murmurs. “Did she say that kind of bullshit in real life, too? I know she wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but . . .”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say that I was a disappointment? Yeah. Repeatedly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I wanna fight your mom now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another twitch of Vetra’s mandibles. “Thanks, Sara. I’m okay, though. She’s gone, and I’m not threatened by a dream. Just . . . frustrated that I never got to prove her wrong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you did prove her wrong. To anyone who matters, at least. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Vetra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra turns her head back toward Sara, a smile quirking her mouth. She runs one talon through Sara’s hair. “Thanks, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara smiles back. “Sure. Um, do you mind if I ask -- was your dad like that, too? With the insults?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fine. No, not exactly. He just wasn’t around, and didn’t really talk to us much, but he didn’t call me a disappointment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. Small blessings, at least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long silence, where Sara presses herself up against Vetra’s side, tucking her face into her shoulder plate. Vetra can feel concern and righteous anger radiating off of Sara, but she’s grateful that Sara gives her space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, to her surprise, she finds more words slipping from her mouth: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why he left, exactly. My mom made it pretty obvious why </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>left: she packed up her stuff, told us she didn’t want anything to do with us anymore, and we never saw her again. But Dad just didn’t come home. And I don’t think something happened to him. I know Sid thinks he was killed in action or something, but the turian military is used to that happening. Soldier dies in combat, bureaucracy is triggered to go collect the kids and bring them into Palaven’s stupidly enormous foster care system. After all, kids are just the next generation of soldiers, and turians can never get enough of those.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can hear the bitterness in her own subharmonics and does nothing to hide it. She’s always been mad about turian militaristic fervor, and that should be no surprise to Sara. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not us, though. We were frozen out of social services. That’s what happens to the kids of deserters, not soldiers killed in action. I can’t blame my dad for deserting -- I remember he looked like a wreck the last couple times I saw him -- but I don’t know why he didn’t take us with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara murmurs: “Are you angry about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Vetra says. Then amends: “Sometimes. Even if he couldn’t come back because he was on the run, I don’t know why he couldn’t at least get a message through to us. Tell us what happened, or why he did what he did. But . . . I’m not mad he deserted. In a way, it may have been the best thing he could have done for us. I was two months away from bootcamp. If Sid and I had to go through the military -- well, I don’t know what we would have been like, but I sure wouldn’t have got to watch Sid grow up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would have sucked,” Sara says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It would have.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Vetra’s surprised to realize that some of the wired feeling in her limbs has drained away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Sara murmurs: “If you did have the opportunity to talk to your parents again, what would you tell them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d ask my dad why he left. I’d tell my mom to go fuck herself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is completely reasonable.” Sara shifts, so that one arm is draped over Vetra’s waist as she looks into her face. “Do you think your dad’s response would change how you feel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably not. It’d be nice to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but, well, as I said, what he did was probably the best thing he could have done for us. If I could, I probably wouldn’t change anything about what happened. With him or my mom. Sure, maybe I could have had loving parents who were there for us, and maybe shit wouldn’t have sucked so often, but . . .” Vetra smiles softly at Sara. “I wouldn’t have ever made it to Andromeda, and then where would I be?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sara smiles, and presses her forehead against Vetra’s. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>glad you made it to Andromeda.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra wraps an arm around Sara and pulls her closer. She exhales a soft huff, and a sense of peace finally takes her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vetra knows that for all she talks about leaving the past in the past, for just playing with the cards she is dealt, she spends more energy thinking about her parents than she’d like. There’s always an undercurrent of hurt, of questioning, that’s she’s never been able to let go of, even as she does whatever has to be done. But as she holds Sara and breathes in her scent, that all falls away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just her, and Sara, and a whole new galaxy where she and Sid aren’t on the run for the first time in years, and she wouldn’t trade any of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally does drift off again, she doesn’t dream of her parents. </span>
</p>
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